


Comfortember 30: Recovery

by FlyinBanachab



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Breda is not the best at comforting, Comfort, Drunkenness, F/M, Post-Promised Day, Swearing, but he tries, what is a fanfic? a miserable little pile of headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyinBanachab/pseuds/FlyinBanachab
Summary: Fuery thinks Catalina is cheating on him, and no one's around but Breda.
Relationships: Heymans Breda & Kain Fuery, Rebecca Catalina/Kain Fuery
Kudos: 2
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Comfortember 30: Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the same continuity as most of my other Comfortember pieces.

In all years they've worked together, Breda's only seen Fuery show up with a hangover a couple of times. So when he stumbles in late with bags under his eyes, Breda assumes the guy just had a rough night. But watching him stagger to the coffee pot, the way he's squinting and rubbing his head when he thinks no one's looking... it must have been a _rough_ night.

Breda came up behind him and clapped him extra hard on the shoulder, making sure to jostle his coffee. "Good time last night?" He asked, smirking, just a shade too loud.  


Fuery winced. "Is it that obvious?" Yes, and more: when he spoke, it became obvious that he was _still drunk_. Holy shit.  


“How many times have I told you, you gotta learn your limits, son!” Now, he expected Fuery to respond with a weak chuckle, after which Breda would stop being an ass and hand him some aspirin. But instead-- Fuery's face crumpled, and he wordlessly retreated to his desk.  


Well shit. Something must be really wrong. Oh SHIT, had Catalina dumped him? It was the most obvious explanation. What he wouldn't give to be able to tag in Jean right now. Damn him and his civilian utility. 

Breda followed him to his desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms.  


"Hey. What's going on."

Fuery sniffled and wiped his eyes. "Sorry, it’s just-- it's Becca, she--"  


She HAD. _Goddammit, Catalina!_ This is exactly what he’d been afraid of, oh sure you can swear up and down _that’s not who I am anymore_ but that doesn’t make it true--  


"--she's cheating on me!" He dropped his head to the desk, a picture of abject misery.  


Breda blinked in surprise.  


"Wait, what?"  


_That_ didn't sound like her; he'd seen her learn the weaknesses of that particular tactic the hard way. Plus, it made no sense. Rebecca _liked_ Fuery. Really liked him. Wouldn't shut the fuck up about him. Which, historically, meant she was about to dump him and run. But _cheating?_ No, this made no sense.  


Breda frowned. "How do you know?"

Fuery did not lift his head to answer. "Sh-- she goes out, sometimes, won't tell me where. Sometimes she's gone _all night!_ She said she's staying with her sister, Breda, I called her sister last night--" his words cut off abruptly, replaced with the muffled sounds of weeping.  


"Oh goddammit." Breda growled.  


"I, I'm sorry, I should just go home--"   


"No. That wasn't for you." He put his hand on Fuery's shoulder again, this time gently but firmly, and sighed a world-weary sigh. "Of course she hasn't told you."  


He jerked up at that, red eyes wide, fearful and a little accusatory. "Tell me what."   


"Hang on." Breda jumped off the desk and crossed the room in three strides, to bang on the door of the general's inner office.  


"Mustang! Get the fuck out here!"  


The door cracked open to reveal one eye of one very irate general.  


"What the hell Breda, I'm on the phone!"  


"Call them back." Breda said flatly.  


Probably the more prudent course of action would have been to disobey orders, tell Fuery himself and swear him to secrecy. But Breda was _pissed_. No surprise Catalina hadn't told him, she's a professional even if she's discharged. But Mustang. What was Mustang thinking, keeping this from him? He probably wasn't thinking. He probably assumed someone had told him.   


But that was Mustang's job. And he had failed to do it, and had put this poor guy through hell as a result, so now it was Mustang’s job to make it right.  


Mustang emerged from the office and Breda shoved him in the direction of the dejected lieutenant. "Get your ass over there and tell him Catalina's not cheating on him."  


Breda rarely swore at Mustang, physically assaulted him even more rarely, so no surprise it took him a few seconds to process the situation. Mustang turned back to Breda utterly baffled. "Cheating on him? What, how should _I_ know--"  


Then understanding dawned. Mustang turned to Fuery in surprise.  


"She really hasn't told you?"  


"She's a professional," Breda muttered.   


"Tell me WHAT," Fuery demanded.   


Roy ran a hand through his hair. "She does some contract work for us sometimes. That's where she was last night. Sorry lieutenant, I thought-- I thought for sure she would have told you."  


Fuery considered this for a moment before turning accusingly to Breda and demanded, "How come YOU knew??"  


"He's the messenger," Mustang answered. "Seemed like the obvious choice, since he was going to hang out at the bar all the time anyway."  


"Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn't YOUtell me?"  


Breda winced at the hurt in his voice. Glancing over, he felt better, seeing the guilt all over Mustang’s face.  


"We both had orders not to reveal it to anyone."

“But--”

“Safety in secrecy,” Breda reminded him.Rebecca’s position got more precarious with each additional person who knew about it.   


Fuery sat back in his chair, a distant look in his eyes. No doubt reevaluating their entire history.  


Breda crossed his arms and scowled at Mustang. "I think you should give him the day off to recover." He deserved at least that much.  


Mustang nodded, properly chagrined. "Go home, Lieutenant."  


Fuery smiled tearfully and stood, but a new thought stopped him. "Wait. Rebecca's NOT still in the military, right?"  


Mustang shook his head. "Just a contractor. Occasional information gathering only."  


"Good.” Fuery’s face darkened. “Cuz if you were making her kill people...”  


"Ook, time to go," Breda cut him off. A commanding officer should only be threatened so many times in a day. "Mind if I escort him, sir?" Both to answer any further questions and to ensure his drunk ass found its way home.  


Mustang just waved them out the door.   



End file.
